The Final Strife

She let the decision settle deep into her bones. Already she felt the familiar warmth of belonging to something greater. She had yearned for that feeling of belonging more than anything else.

For now, all Sylah could do was wait for the girl to release the restraints; then she’d be out of there.

—

“Anoor, are you ready for breakfast?” The words were muffled, and it took Anoor quite some time to understand what Gorn was saying.

She opened her eyes to darkness.

Where was she?

“Oh, Ending Fire!” She wiped the drool from her face and sat up rod-straight. “Coming, Gorn!” Anoor pushed open the wardrobe door and tripped over her feet, landing on the bedroom carpet. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Anoor, are you coming?” Gorn sounded annoyed.

“Yes, yes.” Anoor turned to shut the wardrobe door, until she noticed black eyes glittering at her in the shadows. “Oh, hello.” Anoor waved.

The girl growled, a primitive sound in the back of her throat.

“I’m just going to go get us some breakfast. I’m sure you’re very hungry.”

Another growl. Her father had always taught her if she ever met a rabid dog to match aggression with aggression. Anoor inhaled and bared her teeth with a growl of her own.

“Then we’ll get down to the real task at hand. Why you’re here.” Anoor hoped her stare was menacing. She closed the wardrobe door slowly.

Gorn didn’t have to say anything about Anoor’s appearance. A lift of the eyebrow was enough.

“I fell asleep.”

“You should let me comb out your curls after your bath.”

“I’m not twelve anymore, Gorn.”

Gorn snorted. She handed Anoor her breakfast. Eggs, with chopped-up goat cheese and fried beans in butter.

“Where’s the milk bread?”

“They didn’t send it up.”

“Kwame promised. I want toast.”

Gorn’s face was blank as she stared at Anoor. Like a piece of brown parchment, crinkled lines pushed smooth.

“I will go and get you some toast.”

“Oh, Gorn, thank you.”

“Get dressed!” Gorn shouted back as she left the chambers.

Anoor hurried back into her bedroom. She had about three minutes before Gorn returned from the kitchens below.

“Okay, so I’ve got you some food…” Anoor announced as she walked into the dressing room. “No cutlery, though…and I have to take the plate back, so…” Anoor pushed her eggs onto the floor by the captive’s face. “Sorry.”

Anoor went back into the bedroom and brought back a jug of water and her waste bin.

“This is for drinking.” Anoor held up the jug. “This is for…you know.” She set the waste bin by the assassin’s feet.

Black diamonds tracked her movements. Sharp and shining.